Try, Try Again
by Ami Amable
Summary: Set after the last season.  Chronicles the subsequent fight against W&H.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hi. This is set after the last episode of the last season. The gang is under attack from W&H._

* * *

><p>"I thought I told you to go home."<p>

"I never listened before. Why start now?"

The two locked eyes for a brief moment before Connor hesitantly knelt and reached toward his father, unsure what he was planning to do.

"No, don't move him," Spike said as he suddenly appeared, dragging one leg slightly behind him and wiping blood from his mouth. "He might have broken his back."

"I'm fine," Angel said, though he made no attempt to back up his words by moving.

"You've never been fine," Spike muttered to himself, fishing a cigarette out of his coat. He extended the pack toward Connor. "Want a smoke, mate?"

"Spike!" Angel hissed, grimacing in pain as he lifted his head off the ground.

"Um, no thanks," Connor answered politely. "Maybe next time."

"No, not next time. Not any time," Angel objected as Spike chuckled and blew a long trail of smoke from between his lips.

"We … We shouldn't just leave him here, though, should we?" Connor asked uncertainly, turning to Spike as if he were the ultimate authority. "I mean, it isn't safe. Right?"

"He'll be good enough to move in a minute," Spike answered, seemingly unconcerned though his eyes swept all around searching for imminent danger.

"Gunn," Angel groaned.

"Huh?" Connor asked.

"Gunn," Angel repeated. "You have to find Gunn. He's hurt."

"I'm not leaving you, Dad," Connor said firmly, ignoring the gawk from his new white-haired companion.

"I'll collect Charlie," Spike offered, stomping out his cigarette on the concrete with the foot he'd just been dragging, already nearly healed. "Hopefully not in pieces…"

Connor ignored the lurch in his stomach that those words had produced and leaned down over Angel, inspecting him from head to toe but unsure what to do other than perform a visual examination.

"Dad, I'm so sorry," he whispered urgently as if it might be his only chance. "I'm so sorry."

"Connor, no," Angel said, trying to shake his head though he didn't manage it very well. "No, son."

"Yes," Connor insisted. "This is all my fault."

"No," Angel said firmly, steadily meeting his gaze. "None of this is your fault."

"I'm so sorry," Connor babbled repeatedly as the tears ran unchecked down his face. "God, I'm so sorry!"

"No, Connor, don't do this. Don't blame yourself," Angel said soothingly, desperate to reach up and wipe the tears away, but his body wouldn't yet allow it. "I'll be fine. It'll all be fine."

Spike returned carrying a limp Gunn over his shoulder. Connor gasped, thinking the worst had happened to the man he only recently remembered, but Spike quickly shook his head.

"Just knocked out. He'll be okay," he said. "Eventually." He nodded toward Angel. "Can you move yet, gramps?"

Angel's tongue poked out of his mouth as he made a concentrated effort to pull himself off the ground, but he just couldn't manage. Worry crossed Spike's face, worry which he couldn't erase before Connor saw it, but he cut off the boy's questions before they could be asked.

"Right, then. You'll have to carry him. We'll go … Ah, we'll go…" He spun in a full circle looking at each dark building. "Shit, I don't know. Angel usually handles these things."

"I know where to go," Connor said resolutely, scooping the moaning Angel into his arms and lifting him as gently as he could. "Follow me."

* * *

><p>"So, earlier when you called Peaches the 'D' word, what was that all about?" Spike finally inquired as he and Connor shared their third cigarette of the night. "He some kind of kinky mentor or something to you?"<p>

"No," Connor mumbled, taking an extra-long puff before he said more. "He is my 'D' word. He's my dad."

"Your dad," Spike repeated tonelessly. "He _did_ tell you he's a vampire, right? We don't generally run around making offspring in the typical way."

"Who said I was typical?" Connor asked with a cheeky grin that Spike could just barely detect glinting off his teeth in the moonlight.

Spike murmured in acknowledgement and watched Connor as he stared out the grimy, broken windows of the abandoned building that he'd said he used to call home.

"Who's your mum, then?" he asked, intrigued. "It's not … no, if it were the Slayer, surely I'd have known about it before now."

Connor shook his head.

"Darla. I think that was her name, anyway. It's … I mean, I think I'm still remembering stuff. I don't think it's quite all here yet. It's foggy sometimes."

"Darla? Like, my great-grandmum Darla?" Spike asked, picking up on the only part of that rambling that he needed to know.

Connor did a double-take and shrugged before staring back out the window.

"I guess so," he said quietly. "Unless you and Angel know more than one."

"But Angel, he sta—" Spike abruptly stopped, realizing Connor may not know and may not want to know the details.

Connor turned questioning eyes on him, however, and he felt suddenly and uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"Never mind," he said, reaching for his cigarette back. "Give me that. You shouldn't smoke so much. These things'll kill you."

"Let's hope so," Connor murmured.

"Don't say that, mate," Spike admonished, nodding toward the darkness outside. "There's plenty out there that want to kill you."

"Let them try," Connor said dully.

"Cheery one, aren't you?" Spike commented, laughing humorlessly. "Must get that from your dad."

"Will he really be okay?" Connor asked worriedly, glancing behind him at the slumbering figure of his father on the floor next to the unconscious Gunn. "Like, he really can't die, right?"

"Not easily," Spike assured him. "But he can hurt, and I wager he will for a while. Taking a tumble from that high up does a number on you no matter how thick your head is."

"We can't stay here," Connor said, pacing back and forth. "They're coming for him. For us. I know they are. I can feel it."

"Well, before you go claiming ESP, let me remind you that they aren't exactly being sneaky about it. Remember, there was a bloody _dragon _out there! I suspect we'll see and hear them coming long before they attack again."

"We can't win," Connor said, shaking his head back and forth. "There's too many. We can't win."

"Can and hopefully will," Spike argued. "Me and your pop have been through worse."

Connor gazed at him skeptically.

"Wesley's dead," he reminded him.

Spike nodded.

"What about Illyria. Is that her name?" Connor asked. "The one who … Fred…"

"Yeah," Spike interrupted. "Dunno where she is. Dunno whose side she's on, either. You can never tell with her."

"Connor," Angel suddenly groaned from the floor.

"Dad!" Connor exclaimed, rushing to his side. "Dad, are you okay?"

Spike smiled at the absurd question, but Connor couldn't see it.

"Connor," Angel said, his voice gaining strength as he gazed up to make full eye contact with his son. "This is important."

"I'm listening," Connor said quickly, taking Angel's hand in both of his and squeezing. "What is it?"

"You touch another cigarette, and I'm gonna kick your ass."

Connor's mouth hung open for several seconds before he began to laugh incredulously, almost maniacally. He burst into fresh tears, letting them stream down his cheeks without regard for his audience as he cradled Angel's head in his lap and leaned down, hugging his father to him.

Angel caught his eye as he finally managed to reach up and wipe the tears away.

"I mean it."


	2. Chapter 2

"This place is a dump."

"Hey! It's kept the sun off you, hasn't it?"

"Barely. There's so many holes in the roof I have to dodge it every couple steps."

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"That doesn't even make sense. I didn't beg you to come here."

"You didn't have any better ideas, did you?"

"Guys!" Angel interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Could we maybe stop this?"

Connor snapped his mouth shut. Spike glared.

"I think I can sit up," Angel said.

"Don't you think you should start smaller?" Spike suggested. "You know, maybe roll over and then try a crawl, like most babies?"

"That's it. When I get out of this floor…"

"What's a brother gotta do to get some coffee around here?" Gunn groaned from the corner, where he'd propped himself up as soon as he'd woken. "Coffee and some aspirin. A lot of aspirin."

"Sorry, Charlie. No can do on either," Spike informed him. "Unless Connor here has anything stashed away in this dump."

"I don't live here anymore," Connor said hotly, though he made his way to his former "bathroom" and checked in the cabinet. "Sorry, everything I had is gone. Squatters, looters."

"Probably better off. Aspirin thins the blood, you know," Spike pointed out.

"What time is it?" Gunn asked as if it mattered.

"Clocks don't work," Spike said. "My watch has stopped. Connor's cell doesn't pick up. Some kind of interference, I'll wager."

"What about my watch?" Angel asked, holding up his naked wrist and staring at it, puzzled.

"You mean _my_ watch," Spike said smugly, dangling the shiny object from his index and middle fingers. "You snooze, you lose."

"Spike," Angel said through clenched teeth, trying his hardest to sit up. "I swear to God…"

"Yeah, yeah," Spike said, sniffing. "You're gonna pound me. Let's see it, then. Let's see you get off the floor and actually do—"

The crash through the remainder of the window panes interrupted Spike's goading. Connor instinctively covered his eyes with his arm to avoid the shattered glass as Spike scrambled to the darkest corner to avoid any stray sunbeams.

"What is it?" Gunn asked in alarm. "Is it a bomb?"

"Shit!" Connor exclaimed, not having considered that possibility.

Whatever the object was rolled slowly and deliberately toward Angel, who merely held his hand out to stop it as if it were of no consequence.

"Dad!" Connor protested. "What are you doing? Don't touch it!"

"I think it's probably a note," Angel said quietly.

"From who?" Connor asked, and at Spike's incredulous look he added, "Oh."

"What's it say?" Gunn asked.

"It's … It's stuck. I can't get it open. It's wrapped in some kind of muscly … thing."

"Here, I'll do it," Spike said, striding across the room and jerking it straight out of the protesting Angel's hand. "Can't even pry open a … muscly thing. I swear, old man, you've really grown quite useless."

An awful shriek pierced the room as the suddenly living note holder unfolded of its own accord to ten times its original size. Spike tried to drop it, but it latched onto the palm of his hand with sharp teeth and continued to screech and then to growl as he shook it from side to side.

"Get it off! Get it off!" he yelled. "Someone get it off! Do something, Angel! I think this message was meant for you!"

Angel managed to sit up, intending to lunge for the tail end of the offending snake-like thing, but he immediately recoiled in pain and fell to his side, watching helplessly as Spike tried in vain to shake the shiny black creature off of him.

Before he knew what had come over him, Connor found that he had stabbed a kitchen knife that he hadn't been holding before straight through the creature's head. It stilled, but Spike continued to yell. Connor withdrew the knife with the snake thing still attached to the end of it and saw that the blade was smeared with two colors of blood, one of which appeared to belong to the now angry white-haired vampire.

"Sorry," he said.

"You bloody stabbed me!" Spike spat accusingly, cradling his injured hand to his chest. "Angel, your kid stabbed me with a butter knife!"

"You probably had it coming," Angel mumbled, pulling himself back to his sitting position.

"Did you want it off you or not?" Connor asked with a nonchalance he didn't quite feel.

The dangling creature began to writhe in a way that was sinister and distinctly undead, and they merely watched as it slithered toward the wall. Connor followed, holding the knife like a leash and looking on as the snake's backend emitted a venom that burned impressions into the worn, dingy wallpaper.

"Christ, that stuff could be in me!" Spike yelled shrilly, shaking his hand and squeezing it as if to somehow drain the poison.

"It's making words," Connor murmured.

"No shit," Spike said petulantly, still upset about his stab wound.

"Shut up!" Angel ordered, watching the scene with morbid fascination.

"'Come for you we will,'" Gunn read slowly as each word formed, "'after the others still.'"

"What's that mean?" Connor asked as the leashed snake fell lifeless and truly dead to the floor.

"Man, that's like friggin' Yoda speak," Gunn said in disgust, shaking his head. "Using Yoda to deliver their little messages. That's messed up. That's pure evil. I always knew they were evil but that—that's crossing the line."

"What's it mean?" Connor repeated urgently, dropping the knife and turning pleading eyes toward his father, willing him to fix it all. "What's it mean, Angel?"

"I think it means I need to get off this floor," Angel said, rolling to his side and crawling first to his knees, and then with Connor's help, to his feet. "And I think it means we need to get to work."

"Oh, sure, _now_ you can get up," Spike muttered. "Couldn't get up before your boy here decided to stab the messenger and the messagee."

"I said I was sorry," Connor said. "It just seemed like the thing to do."

"Isn't anyone even going to ask me if I'm all right?" Spike said, lifting his good hand from the wound to take a peek.

"You're talking, aren't you?" Angel said pointedly.

"Bloody git," Spike said in reply.

"Uh, guys?" Gunn said, trying to get their attention. "I think we have a problem."

"Just now noticing that, mate?" Spike scoffed.

"No, I mean we've got to get out of here, now!" Gunn said, struggling to get to his feet on weak, shaky legs. He nodded toward the wall. "This whole place is about to go up."

The others turned to follow his gaze and noticed the tiniest of sparks had begun in the curve of the C of the dead snake's message. The flame flared once and then quickly spread to the next letter and the next. Spike grabbed the nearest discarded piece of clothing and attempted to beat the flame out, but it only fueled it and made it burn brighter.

"What are we waiting for?" Gunn asked incredulously. "Come on!"

Connor glanced worriedly toward the window and saw his father do the same.

"The sun," they said in unison.


End file.
